


how to break time to save your soulmate, a guide

by RK7200



Series: a guide on soulmates [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Multi, Romance, Soulmates, Time Travel, au where claude is born centuries after the game, claude accidentally breaks history and is okay with that, game!dimitri, modern au which takes place a long time after the game, modern!claude, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RK7200/pseuds/RK7200
Summary: Claude is going to break time and history itself to save his very hot, and hopefully very alive by the end of this, soulmate. One unwilling Dimitri Blaiddyd.





	1. wake up and smell the tears

Claude’s timer counted in negatives. 

It was strange, odd, unique, and utterly terrible. No one’s timer had negatives. They did not jump and flash in random intervals, changing and warping at random. Claude’s number were a series of negatives in a place where they should be whole. Moving downwards one hour and changing to counting forward the next. 

Always in negatives. 

Story of his life, really. 

Claude would like to say that he did not care, not anymore.

But he was never good at lying to himself.

* * *

Claude remembers being young and naive. Filled with endless enthusiasm about his sixth birthday. Knowing that he would awake the next morning at the crack of dawn and a set of magical numbers would await him. Bright and shiny and telling him exactly when he’ll be able to meet his soulmate’s eyes for the first time. 

He didn’t really know what to do after that. The books his mother read to him never went that far. He only knows that when he meets his soulmate the world will turn bright and everything will be right. His soulmate will be beautiful and they’ll smile at each other and then they’ll hold hands and run off into the distance. There will be fireworks and a full moon, maybe a few pegasi or so flying overhead. 

And as for what happens after that? Well, it doesn’t matter, it’ll be a happily-ever-after, that Claude was sure of. 

At midnight, Claude had woke with negatives on his wrist and a full soul. 

Claude cries, then, at the stroke of midnight. Little sobs and cries that were muffled by his blankets. He cried and cried, wishing that this was a dream and that maybe if he cries enough he’ll wake up. That if he cries then some higher being will take mercy and take half of his soul to create him a soulmate. He wouldn’t even care if they were six years younger than him. 

He just wants them to exist. 

Please, he wishes- pleads, please let me have a soulmate. Please. 

Claude, seven hours after turning six, wakes up with negatives on his wrist and a still full soul. 

He didn’t cry. 

Not even when his mother had broken down and his father looked at him as though he were a beast. 

Claude didn’t cry.

* * *

Claude knows that his timer is a bad, bad thing. The way his mother had screamed and the way his father had looked had only proven that. It was a tense few hours as Claude sat isolated in his room. Ordered to stay put and not take a step out as his father rushes away, his expression stern and his mother still sobbing. 

“Claude, oh, my dear fawn,” she sobbed, one hand rowing over his hair and the other wrapped tightly around his wrist. Trying to cover the numbers, the very bad, very terrible numbers. He leans against her, mind still blank. His other hand coming to hold hers, covering his wrist together. “How could the Goddess be so cruel?”

The blankets were warm and the sun’s light fall through the curtains yet Claude is unable to feel them. He can see the specks of dust in the air, illuminated by the sun. The worn books sitting on his shelves and the other ones strewn about the floor, waiting for six-year-old Claude to pick them up with the same cheer that the him from yesterday did. The smell of breakfast spreading in the air as the servants prepared for a meal that none would attend. It was supposed to be a joyous celebration, joy for their young master and his soulmate. 

It is all useless now, Claude thinks. To think that they had put such effort into the decorations. 

His mother sobs, her tears landing on his scalp. He slowly slides his hand away from his mother’s grip finding that it had changed. 

It is still negative. 

What a waste, Claude thinks, distantly. As though he were halfway submerged underwater, despite him unable to swim. 

Oh, he thinks. This is what drowning feels like.

* * *

His father had rushed into his room, a magical band in his hand as he slides it over Claude’s hand and snuggly over Claude’s wrist. 

It covered the numbers. Negatives and all. His mother had stopped crying by then, her hands still gently wrapped over his. 

“Don’t worry about a thing, Claude,” she whispers. Her voice so strong despite her desperate cries earlier. 

“We will protect you,” his father says seriously. His solemn green eyes burn into Claude’s as his big hand wraps around his wife’s. 

They both covered his wrist, together. 

“You must never speak of this,” they say and he nods. The band around his wrist feels tight, but Claude thinks that this is better than feeling nothing at all. Maybe one day he’ll be able to think the pressure around his wrist as a sign of his soulmate rather than what it is. 

He sees the way his father still frowns and the pressure on his wrist and the mournful expression of his mother. Can already see their sadness and feel their gloom because of him. Because of how Claude has a full soul and a lonely future. They’ll worry and mourn for him. 

But it is useless, Claude thinks. He had prayed and the Goddess didn’t answer (why? Wasn’t the Goddess supposed to be kind? Wasn’t she invincible?) and their mourning will do nothing but bring more sadness. Instead, Claude lick his lips and began the performance of his life. 

He laughs, it comes easily. A child’s laugh. The way five-year-old Claude would laugh and the way six-year-old Claude should laugh. 

“I never wanted a soulmate anyways,” Claude jokes, smiling at his father and mother. “What if they want to take all my toys and books?” 

His father’s eyes soften and so did his grip and his mother lets out a little giggle. They didn’t know how Claude cried and how he prayed, and they never would. They were all the happier for it, and maybe, just maybe one day he’ll convince them enough that things will be just like before. 

This is when Claude learns that lying is easier than telling the truth.

* * *

His peers would chatter on about their timer. It was natural for them, like breathing and walking. A mindless comment of how, “in twenty years, I’ll meet my soulmate!”, “Two years, eight months, ten-”, and of course, the ever so popular, “when are you meeting yours?” 

It was then that their curious eyes bore into him, more specifically his wrist and the golden band that covers it. 

“It’s a secret,” he would say on most days. When his mood was neither foul nor pleasant. The standard answer that would make his classmate sigh and go, “there goes Claude again.” 

On pleasant days, where he would wake up with his mind foggy and blank. As he forgets about his timer and his nonexistent soulmate he would say, “hopefully soon.” 

They would laugh and titter, saying how they wished him luck. Claude would snap out of this mood just as easily as he fell into it. Waking up the moment he sees a golden band around his wrist and remembers that the gold is there to cover up something unsightly, something bad. 

On other days, where his mood turns dark and just as negative as his timer he would say, “sooner than you would meet yours.” 

It was petty, seeing how they grew angry at his comment. But it brought him some perverse joy, as though he wanted them to be as miserable as he is- which is not good behavior for a good boy. But Claude didn’t want to be good, he can’t be. If he was then the Goddess would’ve blessed him with a soulmate.

Instead, Claude was cursed with a full soul and no one to find. Claude didn’t think that he was a good person in his life, nor will he be in this life. 

It doesn't matter, he thinks. King Dimitri of Faerghus reportedly never had a soulmate either and he was strong and cool and-

And died in the Great War under the Empress' axe.

But King Dimitri was a strong and epic figure and Claude thinks that if King Dimitri could be strong enough to fight a war without a soulmate then Claude could live a whole life without his.

* * *

“Hi, please hide me,” a voice, girl probably and young most definitely, whispers.

He looks up from his book coming face to face with a girl who held jewel pink eyes and just as striking hair. 

“Sure,” he says as she pauses for a moment, truly shocked before nodding to him and ducking under his table. 

A moment passes before a man with the same features and coloring rushes into the library. His hair wild and his eyes spooked as he glances around, as though searching for something- someone. 

Ah, so this is what she needed me for. 

The man, as though driven by some sort of built-in tracking spell rushes to Claude’s seat immediately. 

“Have you seen my sister?” the man asks desperately. Truly on his last fraying nerves.

Claude took great pressure in saying, “nope.” 

The man, Pink Guy, panics as he flounders. Pacing around Claude’s seat as he begins to monologue. 

“Oh, Hilda, the light of my world, the star on my darkest of nights, the-” 

Claude mentally checks himself out at that moment. Wondering who the fuck says stuff like that before minding his own business. Feeling the girl underneath his table punch the legs a few time, probably letting out her embarrassment. 

He wouldn’t blame her. Even Claude, shameless preteen extraordinaire, feels somewhat ashamed just from listening to the man’s rambles. 

“Stupid Holst,” he hears the girl- Hilda, who else could she be?- whispers from underneath him. Idiotic move as suddenly Pink Guy (Holst, probably) snaps his head towards him (like an owl, Claude thinks, creeeepy.) He marches right over to them and his steps were meaningful and it is obvious that he had- somehow, through some goddamn miracle- heard Hilda. 

“Hey, did you hear something?” Holst asks, pink eyes narrowing as though Claude was the one that was keeping him away from his sister. 

“Nope,” Claude repeats, shaking his head for emphasis. 

“Are you sure?” Holst asks, his pink eyes narrowing even further and Claude resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Are you doubting me mister?” he asks and his eyes turn misty. Holst seems to falter- aha!- and something like regret appearing on his face. Truly a dedicated older brother, to be so weak to any child that is around his sister’s age. 

“No- no, not at all!” Holst says giving Claude a nervous thumps-up. Probably fearing that Claude would cry or something. “I shall be off now then, since my beloved Hilda isn’t here.” 

A moment, and then two as both him and the girl underneath his desk waits for the man to leave. Not wanting to test how far-reaching his hearing was.

At least not now. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen big bro give up that fast,” the girl, Hilda, says. Something like admiration in her eyes and voice. 

“Yeah, well, guys like him are easy,” Claude replies, shrugging as he moves to leave her room to escape. 

“My name’s Hilda,” she informs, pretending as though he hadn’t heard a full tirade about her beauty earlier. “We should talk sometime, you know trade life skills and stuff.”

Claude focuses on the girl’s eyes and hair and doesn’t spare a glance towards her wrist as he shakes her hand. 

“I’m Claude.”

What was there to lose?

* * *

Okay, so apparently Hilda wasn’t exactly the most sane of humans. Despite the fact that she claimed that she was a “dainty, beautiful, and fragile and how dare you make me move, Claude-” and her brother would back her up, Claude learns very quickly that they have very skewed ideas of power.

Seriously, seeing Hilda bench press Raphael while Holst was screaming in the background, not at the fact that his sister was literally lifting a giant, but rather because Hilda would rather bench press a stranger (her best friend) over him (her fucking weird as hell brother), taught him that Hilda could crush his head with her bare hands and still claim at her fragility.

“You’re a weird brat,” Holst had told him, once, or twice. Staring down at him as though Hilda and Claude hadn’t doodled all over his face earlier. 

“No, your whole family is weird,” Claude had, very reasonably, replied and Holst screamed. Resulting in a deadly tag that involved the entire house of Goneril soon enough. The servants had sided with Claude while the bodyguards had with Holst. So it was somewhat equal, despite Holst’s magic training and long legs. 

“Come back here you brat!” Holst screams in the very near distance and Claude panics, because the man looked like a raging demon which was probably an accurate depiction. Claude grabs the old bow and arrows that hung on the wall- probably fake, but maybe functional as a weapon. 

He draws the bowstring and letting go, seeing it fly through the air and-

And falls to the ground right in front of him.

“You sure have nerves, you brat! That was the first bow that Hilda used!” 

Shit. 

As Holst draws closer, Claude’s brain went into overdrive as he rushes towards Holst in turn. 

“Stop or I’m snapping this bow!” Claude yells. Swinging the bow around and Holst pales.

“You- you would dare?” 

“Test me you old geezer!” 

Holst pauses and Claude immediately sprints, he briefly wondered where he got the strength, dashing across Holst and barricading himself inside Hilda’s dad room, taking out a pen as he began scribbling a few runes on the arrow, hearing the door break little by little as he rushes. 

He shrieks as the door finally breaks. 

Thank you, he thinks to the fallen door as he dashes towards Holst. Stabbing the arrow into his thigh. 

“You- what-” Holst mumbled before falling. Unconscious from the sleep runes that were inscribed on the arrow and Claude thanks his mother and her books. 

That was how Claude, single handedly because Hilda was too busy sleeping to actually _help_, took down the rest of Holst’s allies. Claude had somehow found sleeping potions in the mansion (who needed them? Why were they there? Questions for another time) dipping the arrow tips with a generous amount as he begins his crusade, no longer having to worry about running out of ink. 

Holst’s father thought the whole thing was funny despite his whole mansion being smeared with cake and arrows with tips laced with sleeping potion. Claude only laughs. 

“You know, I think archery would fit you,” Hilda says, somehow awake, somehow forgetting that he only shot one arrow that ended in failure and the rest were disgraced and used as mini knives instead.

“Huh, maybe.”

* * *

Claude practices and practices, finding joy in just practicing archery. His tutor said that he had talent, and his father was proud that his son was finally focusing on something. 

Then the first lesson on infusing his arrows with magic came. Where Claude had focused and when he released something sparked within him and in front of him. A symbol appearing in the air, where his arrow had once been. His tutor had shouted and so had Claude. 

A crest. Claude had manifested a crest. 

It was a very special crest, as it turns out, one of the elite ten. One on his mother’s side. Claude wasn’t supposed to inherit the title, that would’ve gone to his cousin, twenty and strong. With perfect grades, strong magic, but mediocre sword skills. The one whose mother didn’t marry to an almyran. 

Crest, having a crest changes everything now, didn’t it. Crest was power and Claude had one that was thought to be extinct. 

The heir of Riegan. That was a noble title, one of the noblest. 

Claude von Riegan, at age thirteen as his mother bow down to the grand title and his father to her whims. Claude was never to speak of his past name again, it would be dishonoring the old Lord Riegan if he were. 

At age thirteen Claude von Riegan was born, with a legendary crest in the place of a soulmate.

* * *

“I knew that you would be good with arrows,” Hilda teases. Sixteen and beautiful. 

“Where would I be without my beloved Hilda,” he says back, lips quirking. “The light of my days, the stars to my-”

“Okay, you can shut it now,” Hilda grumbles, smashing her hand into his (very weak) lips. Claude winces. “Today is a special day, you know.”

Huh. “Why?” 

Hilda laughs, there was something anxious within it that was unlike her. “I’m meeting my soulmate in five minutes and twenty-five seconds.” 

“What the fuck.” 

“I know right, wild.” She laughs again, something manic in her eyes. 

“We are about to skydive, Hilda,” he says. She laughs again. 

“I know, wild.” 

“We are about to skydive in three minutes.”

“Wild.” 

“Can’t wait to see that your soulmate is a pegasus,” he says, watching as she laughs again- that nervous titter. It seems that the reality finally hit her that maybe she was going to mess up her chances with her soulmate due to her own stupidity. 

“What were you thinking?” 

“I dunno,” she says, shrugging. 

So he shrugs, too, wondering how the fuck this was going to go. Wondering if the Goddess will really take mercy on Hilda and her infinite willingness to test her own fate. 

So they both descend, Hilda letting out a shriek and Claude knows that they are approximately one minute away from meeting Hilda’s soulmate. 

Thirty seconds passed, Claude didn’t really care about his freefall anymore. Focusing on Hilda instead. Watching as her face crumbles and she tries to activate her cushioning runes. 

“Hey Claude, I think my runes aren’t working, do you-” she yells through the air, as Claude watches with perfect view as a pegasus tackles her.

Holy shit, maybe her soulmate is really a pegasus. 

“I’m so sorry!” a voice screamed, shrill and definitely human. It was a girl. With blonde hair in a neat braid and padded blue armor, with a training lance in hand. Probably an aspiring falcon knight. 

“My hero!” Hilda yells. “My soulmate!” 

Hilda had found her soulmate, the lucky girl. The Goddess really did favor her.

Or maybe Claude was the only unlucky one here. 

The golden band around his wrists shines in the light and the numbers continue to count in negatives.

* * *

Ingrid was beautiful, Ingrid was hard-working, Ingrid was wonderful and possibly the best thing in the world- was what Claude learned a day later. Hilda gushing over her soulmate as they sat together, the three of them. 

“You flatter me,” Ingrid says, a flush overtaking her cheeks. Her back was straight and the Galatea’s heirloom hangs around her neck. 

Hilda leans into her soulmate, arms squeezing around Ingrid’s as she laughs. “No way, you’re definitely perfect. Though, maybe you need more jewelry and such to truly make you shine.” 

Ingrid blushes, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“See? So cute,” Hilda gushes, once again. Practically trying to fuse her cheeks into Ingrid’s shoulder. Her cheeks resembled her eyes and Claude had never seen them in that color before. 

“With the way you’re talking, I don’t think that _anyone_ can be that great,” Claude says, shrugging. 

Hilda laughs again, where she would’ve pinched him days ago for even saying such.

“You’ll understand once you meet your soulmate,” she says. 

He heard that one before. Many times. Those were natural words, like the sky was blue and how the summers are hot. You’ll meet your soulmate the you’ll be happy, you’ll meet your soulmate and your soul will be complete. He had heard this before, from distant relatives and acquaintances.

He never thought he would hear it from Hilda. 

Claude had a complete soul and no soulmate, this, too, was an undeniable fact. Despite this he smiles. 

“I doubt it.”

It was a flaky smile, one too raw and too wide. An amateur's smile.

But Hilda was too besotted with her soulmate to notice.


	2. flowers and kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein we finally get to the time traveling

Claude was not the paragon of restraint. This he could admit, halfway downing his father’s precious wine at the age of sixteen. Thinking that maybe he could get drunk enough to forget about Hilda and her stupidly perfect soulmate. Drunk enough that his mind grow fuzzy and his eyes blurry so that the numbers on his wrist would appear positive even though they were anything but. 

He scribbles down, _Fuck the Goddess_ on the ground with permanent marker and laughs. Feeling like he was crying instead. 

Fuck you, he thinks. I want a hot soulmate too. 

He sniffles into his arms, permanent marker in hand as he begins to scribble on the floor runes. His mind not quite catching on what he was writing but knowing that it would become a teleportation spell- maybe to hell or something. But Claude just wants to get away. Away from his father’s disappointed eyes and his mother’s mournful cries. Away from Hilda and her great soulmate, away from soulmates and timers. 

He adds another line. Away, yeah that sounds nice. 

He tries very hard not to sob. 

Fuck timers and fuck soulmates, he thinks bitterly. 

Claude draws the last lines of the ‘transport’ rune, or something similar. Before channeling all his magic into it and faints.

* * *

Claude wakes up with a headache and flowers under his head. It was an odd feeling, but not unpleasant. Though there was a questionable sanitary debate about lying on the cold forest floor which Claude tries very hard not to think about right now with his head blaring and fuzzy. 

He groans, moving his hand to cover his eyes from the sun. Nothing the missing gold and the numbers ticking downwards.

Huh, he thinks, still dead. Two minutes is pretty nice. 

Two minutes until he meets his soulmate, how quaint. 

Wait a fucking minute- 

He bolts up in record speed. Seeing the numbers ticking down, positive, whole numbers. Counting down with no warps nor distortion to them. 

Am I dreaming?

His headache returns. 

Nope. 

He jumped to his feet, well, more like stumble, and looks around the field of flowers. One minute and thirty seconds, he thinks. Until-

Until what? Claude doesn’t fucking know but he wants to find out. 

He spots a figure in the distance. A man, he thinks. One with blond hair and odd armor. Blue cape trailing beneath him as sits, surrounded by flowers. 

Hell yeah, Claude thinks. Fucking score. 

He runs then, heart beating and legs screaming in pain. 

_00:00:42_

Blond with silver armor and blue cape, odd fashion choice but Claude won’t complain. Even if his soulmate has terrible fashion choice Claude wouldn’t even mind. 

_00:00:30_

Blond hair and nice hands, Claude notes. Fucking neat. 

_00:00:14_

As Claude approaches the man he slows down, gasping for air as he slows to a stop. Blond haired and likes flowers, already off to a good start, Claude thinks. 

I have a soulmate-

_00:00:03_

“Hey!” he yells. 

Blond man with silver armor and blue cape, with nice hands and flowers in his hair turns around and-

“What’s-”

\- and the flowers fade as Claude returns to his room. Blond man with silver armor and blue cape, with nice hands and flowers in his hair is gone. 

“- your name…”

Oh, he thinks. I didn’t get to see his eyes. 

Claude crumbles and his eyes burn.

* * *

Claude redraws the rune finding himself back in a field of flowers and a man with blond hair and shining silver armor and long blue cape waiting for him.

He runs, faster this time.

_00:00:42_

“Hey!” he yells.

The man turns-

\- and the flowers fade.

* * *

Faster, faster, Claude thinks. Sober and ready.

Back in a field of flowers and a man with blond hair and shining silver armor and long blue cape waiting for him.

He runs and-

“Hey!” 

The flowers fade.

* * *

This time- for sure-

“Hey!” 

Again.

* * *

“Please!” 

Again.

* * *

The rune that he drew wasn’t “location,” but rather “time.”

* * *

Claude tries but at the hundredth day, he still doesn’t know what color the man’s eyes are.

* * *

At age eighteen and too many days to count, Claude prepares himself to jump back in time again. To a field of flowers and a desolate man. 

He bumps into a woman, at age eighteen, one with mint green hair and similar eyes. She was beautiful and lovely, aside from the strange armor that she had on. Not that Claude would acclaim to being a fashionista by any means, but she looked as though she was about to go to war or giving a realistic lecture on life in the ancient past. 

Claude very much prefer his jeans a t-shirts, aside from the occasional sweats and modern armor for bouts, but to each their own. He was currently carrying his own relic and a quiver filled with poisoned arrows, having walked home from a duel with Hilda and Ingrid, which he very much regrets. 

“Hi, miss-”

“I don’t have time,” she says, her eyes stricken as Claude feels the air around them shifts and waver and-

What the fuck?

“Miss-”

She begins to chant and Claude wondered what the hell he got into now. As a rune appears underneath them both, ancient and divine. Runes that Claude did not understand, which was rare in and of itself. The area around them lights up as he feels her channel her magic into it. It begins to spin, counterclockwise and Claude begin his escape because no- just no. 

But he was stuck and he looks on in horror as he shouts her last words, the circle becoming brighter, spinning even faster and-

“Oh dear-”

The world warps. 

Claude von Riegan, age eighteen and very much not ready for war opens his eyes to a battlefield. 

Men and women dressed in red and blue clashing against each other and Claude thinks, oh, this’ll be an interesting experience.

And soon after, I’m definitely screwed.

* * *

As Claude scampers away, shooting at the few soldiers that try to chase him, he wonders where the hell he even is. 

As far as he can tell this was no way a teleportation spell, too strong and the chant completely forgein. He would have preferred it if it were, easier to just reverse himself back. Now, with the men and women dressed in red armor that was more reminiscent of the ancient paintings of the Great War than the modern armor. Well, Claude didn’t want to assume, but, maybe, possibly he was transported back in time?

This will be a fun story to tell Hilda, he thinks maniacally. If I even make it back alive. 

“Hey, why are you chasing me anyways?” he asks, pretending to be calm and casual and everything that he was not feeling. 

The man with the axe laughs. “Ha- you’re with one of those Faerghus bastards aren’t you.”

Faerghus, the kingdom Faerghus? The one that was in the Great War-

“Why do you think so?”

“Saw you arriving with their tactician, so don’t think you can trick us,” the man answers, taking another swing at me. 

He fucking knew beautiful women would be his end someday. Just not like this. 

So Claude was really in the Great War, and thought to be related to the Faerghus kingdom of all things. You know, the war that was fought where no one won and eventually ended in a stalemate with like a million deaths and nothing gained. 

Yeah, that stupid war that his history teachers harps on so much about. 

Claude shoots another arrow and the man in front of him falls, leaving him space to sneak away- maybe forever, he doesn’t know. But away was definitely a good idea right now. Finding that woman would be for another day, where there wasn’t deadly axes and spells flying about. 

He stumbles through a clearing and-

“Farewell, King of Delusion,” a voice says. It was a regal tone, and it came from the woman right in front of him, dressed in red armor and white hair. 

Edelgard von Hresvelg. 

What the hell-

And the man in front of her, why does he recognize this man-

“Dimitri!” someone shouts. 

The man was the legendary King Dimitri of Faerghus. But Claude didn’t care about that. Not when his silver armor dulls in the rain and the familiar blond hair lays placid on the man’s face.

No- what- 

“What a pity,” the Empress says, a mocking edge to her words. “That you cannot meet your soulmate before you die.” 

King Dimitri was born without a soulmate and he will die just the same.

A king who was forced to be strong to cover up his weaknesses, he was that kind of tragic figure. The kind that had poets and historians had written so many words about only for them all to mean one thing, “he was destined to die, so it makes sense that he never had a soulmate.” 

Or, “it is fortunate that King Dimitri never had a soulmate, lest they die of heartbreak.” 

Claude had never met the man but he had felt as though they were the same. Claude had never seen the man but he recognizes his figure. Had seen that armor and blond hair as he jumps back in time. Had seen that blue cape, new and clean, and the flowers that trails behind it. 

He knows this man-

_00:00:10_

He sees the Empress raise her relic and yells. Perhaps hoping to delay or distract he doesn’t know. But his fingers lay useless and his relic weighs down like lead. He sees the king turn to him, his blue eyes widening at the sound. They locked eyes, blue to green and suddenly something clicks. The world seems to grow clear as the sound around them dims, the raindrops were heavy as they land on his body and Claude doesn’t seem to care at he shifts his band to find a gold zero waiting underneath. 

They lock eyes and his heart begins to beat. His soulmate’s eyes widen as he begins to try to stumble onto his knees- they lock eyes and the world seems to pause.

They lock eyes and Dimitri Blaiddyd dies. 

_00:00:00_

* * *

The woman- mint eyes and hair- rushes to Dimitri’s corpse. Her cries were louder than the thunder that rumbled from above them as the Empress retreats from seeing her figure. 

Byleth, the legendary tactician of the Faerghus Kingdom. Of course she was. 

“Turn back time,” he says. She startles, her bloody hands moving to grasp at her sword. 

“Who are you?” she asks, as magic fills the air and her sword glows a gentle crimson. 

“I’m his soulmate,” he says, sliding his band to show the dimming zero that matches with the king’s cold body. “Turn back time, please.” 

“You- you’re that boy- oh Sothis what have I done?” she gasps. Her hands dropping as she stares at him with tearful eyes. 

“Oh, I need to send you back right away. This is simply-”

“No,” Claude says. His hands grasping at hers, finding that he does not mind the blood at is on it. “I’m not going back.”

“But you-”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get to speak with my soulmate,” he answers and she lets out another gasp. 

“I’ve tried,” she replies, suddenly cold and brittle. “I’ve tried and failed so many times. What makes you think you can do any better?” 

“I don’t know, but I’ll do my damndest to make sure that he lives,” Claude answers, hands still grasping at hers. 

“He dies, you know, every time,” she spat. “Are you sure you want to see him die? Time and time again? Are you even strong enough?”

“I-” 

“You had lived your entire life without knowing you have a soulmate right? Why don’t you just go back and forget about this, move on from this?” she proposes her voice light. Goddess, she was barely hanging on as is and Claude fears what will happen if he lets go of her hands. 

“I don’t want to let it end like this,” Claude says. “Not like this, when he died right after seeing a soulmate he thought never existed and I’ll live knowing that I had just lost mine.”

She sighs, still wavering. Her hands were cold but her eyes were warming as they look at him. 

“Please,” he begs, for the second time in his life. “Please, I want to speak to him.”

“You-”

“He doesn’t even know my name,” Claude says. “And I never got a chance to ask for his.” 

She pauses for a moment and falters and he knows that she had crumbled. 

“Very well,” she says, curt but warm. The stern but caring woman that historians had portrayed her as. “Let us pray that you do not regret this.” 

“Please, me? Regret? I’ve never heard of such a word,” he says, smiling. 

“Dimitri always thought he was fated to die, alone, as a martyr” she muses. “Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing. What _he’s_ been missing.”

The familiar rune lights up around them as she begins to chant again. The air around him singing along with her as her magic powers the runes and they warp once more. 

“Dimitri needs a reason to become more than a martyr.”

Her chant stops, but the runes continue to shine brighter still. 

Claude looks at her and smiles. 

“I’ll make him a hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sure enjoyed writing this chapter, dimitri and claude finally meeting was fun to write! I hope that ya'll enjoy this and chapter 3 is definitely in the works and will probably be published soon!
> 
> please leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't like, just anything to make the author super happy and motivated! ♡(ŐωŐ人)


	3. history starts here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> claude saves his soulmate and gets his prince

Claude wakes up with dirt under his head and rain falling onto his cheeks. He jumps to his feet, using his relic to steady himself before moving. Knowing the number that was slowly dwindling on his wrist. 

He grits his teeth and starts running.

* * *

Claude dashes into a clearing, rain in his lungs and his wrist burning with each step as he dashes forward. A man kneeling on the ground with dirt caking his armor and head bowed. Axe hanging over his neck and ready to drop. 

Claude runs faster, hoping that his converse will manage to last through the mud and rock. 

“Farewell, King of Delusion.” Her axe shining with a red glow just like before. 

Claude stops, drawing his bow-

“- You won’t be meeting your soulmate-”

\- and fires. 

“Yeah, well, I’m right here!” 

The woman’s head snaps to him, her eyes blazing as it reflects the arrow that was coming towards her. Her axes raise to block it and she slides back from the impact. 

Taking this chance Claude runs closer to the man, dragging him by his cape.

“Come on!” he yells. “Move! What are you waiting for?” 

“Who are you?” his voice was raspy, unfamiliar but comforting all the same. 

Claude pulls on the man's cape, willing him to move but the man refuses to budge. 

“Come on, you gotta go!” 

“I am meant to die here,” the man says, his teeth gritted hands pulling his cape back. And fuck was he strong. 

“Oh, not this!” Claude groans. Letting the cape drop as he channels his magic to create another arrow. 

“She was right, a beast like me was always meant to die,” the king says, his voice low and somber and Claude was not fucking dealing with this right now. He lets the arrow fly and watches as it explodes on impact with the Empress’ axe. 

(Holy fuck he was really fighting the Empress-) 

“We don’t have time for your monologue right now, babe-” 

“I am a beast who has failed his people,” the man bemoans and Claude groans. Gritting his teeth as he powers more magic into his relic, more arrows, more enemies down and more time to save this stupid man. 

“Look here, darling, I don’t know what-”

“I am fated to be a calamity, cursed by the Goddess,” the king sighs and Claude just wants him to shut the fuck up and move his legs instead of his mouth. “Now my curse has been passed onto my people and it is only right for me to die to end this tragedy once and for-”

“Listen here!” Claude yells, releasing another arrow as he swings his relic to defend the troublesome blond. “You’re not cursed, and even if you were it doesn’t make it okay for you to spit on my efforts like this.” 

“You-” 

Claude was pretty sick of being cut off so this time he turns and locks eyes with the man. Blue, that was what his soulmate’s eyes were. Beautiful jewel blue. Claude looks down at the man and fire runs through his veins once more as his numbers burn and turn molten. 

“Hello, I’m your very hot and very exhausted soulmate who would like it if you stand upright about now,” Claude says and Dimitri stumbles onto his feet. 

“That’s the spirit!” Claude cheers as he aims and fires at the enemies around them. Not that he needed to, now that their reinforcements had arrived. 

“You- you are really-?” 

“Of course, so I would appreciate it if you’d start thinking about using that cool lance of yours to do something,” Claude answers, finding his knees suddenly weak now that Dimitri stands before him. Muscled and tall, his stained armor doesn’t marr his image and in fact makes something inside Claude trills and Claude is very much not ready for this right now. 

Dimitri nods dumbly and Claude blushes turning away. 

The rest of the time Claude didn’t need to fire a single arrow, not with Dimitri and his army doing most of the work now that their leader’s morale was back. Despite his eyes being on Claude the entire time the king was doing well in taking down enemies. Claude blinks as Dimitri’s hand was suddenly on his arm, pulling him closer as Claude was engulfed by Dimitri’s armor and-

\- were nobles always so forward? Claude wonders, trying to recall ancient courting customs and affectionate gestures. Not that Claude mind his forwardness, but it was just that they were in a battlefield and-

“Watch out,” Dimitri mumbles and oh- turns out it wasn’t PDA afterall. Just another enemy surprise attack that Claude needed to be defended from. 

“Thanks babe,” Claude replies, suddenly feeling awkward at the rising blush on his cheeks at the mere contact with the king- his soulmate! Claude moves to pull away from Dimitri and his warm body only for strong arms to pull him back. 

Oooh, nice arms, Claude’s brain notes, and Claude wants to die. 

“You- you can let me go, you know,” Claude says, attempting an escape before he could combust. 

“No. Edelgard is here and I fear that she’ll- she’ll-” Dimitri stutters, his grip tightening and Claude falters. 

“Well, perhaps we can adjust? Make it less inconvenient for you?” Claude suggests. Finding that his hand was wounding around Dimitri’s in the same fashion as the king’s arms were around his. 

Dimitri nods and oh- suddenly Claude was off his feet and leaning against Dimitri’s chest, seated on his free arm. 

Nice fucking arms I tell you, his brain says. Also very nice neck.

Claude very much wants to die and live at the same time. 

Hilda’s PDA with Ingrid had nothing on this, Claude thinks. Resigning himself as he rests his head against Dimitri’s. A blush rising on his cheeks which Claude very much does not want to think about. 

A flash of amber and suddenly the Empress falls on the other side of the battlefield as Byleth (the tactician his fucking idol since six-) uses her relic to push back the Empress. Her expression murderous as she draws closer, her sword snapping at her feet eager to devour and kill. 

“Professor you-” the Empress gasps, raising her own relic to shield. “Won’t- won’t you consider joining the Empire instead?” 

Byleth laughs, rough and bitter and her sword flashes amber once more as it charges towards the Empress’ heart. 

“I see, what a pity,” the Empress says, a figure suddenly appearing behind her as she fades. Reappearing on another part of the battlefield with a dark-haired man (the vampire guy- Hubert von Vestra) by her side. 

“You got lucky today, Dimitri,” the Empress announces, her axe a dull red. “Next time there will be no miracle to save you.” 

“Let the same be said to you, Edelgard,” Dimitri hisses and the Empress sneers. With that, she fades and her army retreats with Hubert von Vestra (the nightmare of his history tests, fuck him and his complex policies.)

With her retreat, Claude lets out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding. As he relaxes in his soulmate’s arms Byleth turns to him, her eyes bright and tearful as she smiles. 

It was a beautiful smile, one coming from a woman who was only portrayed as stern or ruthless. 

“We did it,” she says, and the army cheers. But they both knew what she meant as Claude nods and gives her a thumbs-up. She laughs, tears coming down her cheeks and a figure with comes to cover her completely, their arms around her as she cheers. 

“Oh, don’t cry Professor,” the woman says. Hands cradling Byleth’s face. “We won!” 

Byleth sobs. 

“Oh no, are you perhaps hurt if so-” the woman’s hands glow bright and-

“No, these are good tears,” Byleth says, leaning into the woman’s chest. “And call me Byleth, Mercedes.”

The woman- Mercedes, the fucking saint, Byleth’s soulmate, the woman who revolutionized medicine, a pain in his faith lessons- giggles and embraces Byleth as they both laugh. 

“And who is this?” Claude turns his head to find a man with bright hair and warm eyes speaking. “Finally found yourself a damsel to rescue?” 

“No, Sylvain,” Dimitri (Claude’s soulmate, holy fuck) says, voice soft and warm and Sylvain’s eyes widen. “He’s my soulmate.” 

A beat of silence and then-

“Dimitri found his soulmate guys!” Sylvain (the paintings didn’t do him justice, and now Claude get why the man was such a ladykiller despite being entirely devoted to his soulmate) yells and the battlefield erupts into chatter. 

“What the fuck boar.” Claude moves his eyes to find a man with dark hair and piercing eyes staring him down. 

“He’s my soulmate, Felix.” 

“What the fuck,” the man, Felix (Sylvain’s soulmate, legendary mortal savant, also apparently really hot and Claude wonders if he was born in the wrong generation) repeats. 

“I know right,” Claude says, laughing from Dimitri’s arm. “Can’t believe it either.” 

(Claude has a soulmate now, one that is alive- one with pretty blue eyes and blond hair and-) 

“What the fuck is this circus act?” Felix questions, looking at the sight of Claude hanging onto Dimitri’s shoulders. “I fucking knew you’d be sappy.” 

Dimitri’s ears turn red as he gently lowers a very disappointed Claude to the ground. 

(Soulmate, his soulmate!)

Ah, don’t let me go yet, Claude wants to whine. 

“I apologize,” Dimitri says, ears still red. And now that Claude has the time to look he really must admit that he has hit the jackpot. As he trails Dimitri’s jawline which he was sure could cut through diamonds and his pretty eyes. As he looks at the way his blond hair droop and frames his face, looking like a mess, but the best of messes. His hands were calloused and warm, that Claude knew and would be interested in knowing more, and surely his muscles would be just as solid and warm underneath the armor which Claude was also interested in exploring. 

Claude didn’t know that he liked the “I’m a rugged bad boy, with broad fucking shoulder and killer biceps but weirdly pretty face” look, but he sure did now. 

Claude didn’t know whether it was the adrenaline or the relief that he had a soulmate (for realsies, wow) and that he had just saved his soulmate from death. But Claude laughs and loops his arms around Dimitri’s neck as he whoops. 

“I knew my soulmate would be the best!” he yells as he jumps back into Dimitri’s arms. Leaving the man no choice but to catch him. His soulmark was a perfect zero (not a negative, the Goddess did bless him) as Claude practically mashes his lips onto Dimitri’s (the man needs chapstick, but that wasn’t going to stop Claude from kissing him again.) 

Claude could wait until later to get sent back to his time, with Dimitri maybe and they’ll probably go back and forth and it’ll be troublesome and tiring sometimes (with the war that Claude would make sure _wouldn’t_ kill Dimitri this time) but- but Claude has a soulmate now and that’s all that matters. 

He was never going to let go. There weren’t fireworks nor beautiful sunset that the two of them could run off into. But the pegasus flying overhead and the warmth of Dimitri- his soulmate! He has a soulmate!- is enough for Claude. 

“Hello, prince charming,” Claude says, catching his breath as he giggles and leans up again. 

Someone cheered, and Claude didn’t know who but he would be sure to invite them to his wedding. Someone else gagged and Claude would invite them to his wedding, too. 

“I thought the Goddess cursed me,” Claude says, laughing. “But turns out she blessed me, instead. Because, holy shit are you a killer package.” 

“You-” Dimitri, his soulmate, fucking hell, says. Rosy cheeks and wide eyes. 

Claude thinks of the storybooks, the ones with knights and princesses, princes and dragons and he look at the man in front of him now and laughs. 

“I’m Claude your very hot and very happy soulmate from the future,” Claude says and leans in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story. it was very fun to write and i hope you guys enjoyed reading it! 
> 
> please leave a comment to make the author's day! (*´ ˘ `*).｡oO ( ♡ )


	4. Extra I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the extra that was long promised, not in any particular chronological order, more to come later

I. Cloak

They were in Faerghus, this Claude would know. Afterall, all those nights spent hunching over maps and history books weren’t for nothing. It was colder than Claude expects though, a chill settling into his bones as he shivers. Yeah, definitely colder. Not that it was to be helped, as Claude huddles around the campsite, the army resting for the day no more progress to be made back to their base. 

“You- are you hurt?” A hand, cloaked in metal and entirely too rough jolts him of his thoughts. He jumps at the contact, turning around to find his soulmate staring back at him. There was a grim look on the other man’s face that Claude wants to erase immediately, preferably with more flirting and reassurance. Because only the Goddess knows how much Dimitri clearly needs it. “Was… was I too rough?” 

Claude shakes his head faster than he had in his entire life. He was pretty sure that he was going to snap something, but it would be well worth it. “No- no it’s not you, darling.”

He gestures around them. The vast mass of a forest that was covered in a sheet of white. A beautiful sight, really, if only it wasn’t trying to freeze him to death. “Just the snow is all. I’m more of a sun and heat kinda guy, but I’ll- I’ll be fine.” He sneezes. “Maybe.”

Claude really wasn’t a sun or heat kinda guy, he hates hot weather in all actuality. But he feels as though he’d rather take the summer heat than whatever the hell this is. 

“Oh.” There was the sound of rustling as the figure behind him moves. Claude turns around again, ready (or maybe not) to face his hot soulmate. 

He came face to face with fur instead. 

Claude would not so proudly admit that he almost screamed. 

Instead, he freezes as fur cover his eyes for a few brief moments before sliding away, a new weight on his shoulders coming with it. Claude comes face to face with Dimitri, dressed in only his armor and signature blue cloak gone. 

Oh, Claude thinks, face heating. Oh. 

Claude couldn’t see much of Dimitri, even with the cloak gone. But he might’ve just gotten a heatstroke. Because in all honesty, Dimitri looks even more handsome like this. Cloak gone and silver armor in its full glory. A glorious sight, Claude thinks, with a scenic snowy background. 

Like a painting. One of those about the great King Dimitri that Claude had admired and is now admiring. Except this time King Dimitri is very much warm and alive in front of Claude. 

The paintings didn’t do King Dimitri justice, Claude thinks. They didn’t show how pretty his eyes were framed by his dainty eyelashes, they didn’t show how his lips were full and perfect, they didn’t show how his hair falls and shines in the dim sun. They certainly didn’t show how handsome he is and how attractive the gentle blush on his face is. 

Claude would be sure to hunt them down and make sure that they paint the great King Dimitri properly. Because this kind of beauty deserves to be immortalized and Claude was not about to _not_ brag to the historians and students of the future about how hot his soulmate is. 

“Did I overstep my bounds?” Dimitri asks, hesitant and meek, breaking Claude out of his reverie. 

“No, not at all,” Claude answers, pulling the cloak further around him. “Rather, I appreciate this very much, Dimitri.” 

Feeling particularly bubbly, Claude leans closer to Dimitri placing a gentle kiss on the king’s cheeks. “But, ah, are you not cold?” 

Dimitri doesn’t respond, face very red and mouth agape and Claude chuckles. Moving the cloak so that it shielded them both from the snow, Claude once again leaning against Dimitri. Head rested on the king’s shoulder. 

“There, now we are both warm, no?” Dimitri blushes even further, and Claude wonders how far the blush goes beyond his neck. Wonders what else he can do to make Dimitri more flustered. Wonders if he’ll blush just the same if Claude kisses him further underneath his armor, if he’ll become even more flustered or turn feral. 

Dimitri turns to look down at Claude, his eyes shining and cheeks red like the sunset as he smiles- it was a worn thing, too small and too weathered but entirely beautiful. “Yes, we’re both warm.”

Really, Claude should hunt down those imperial artists who dared to portray such a man like this as nothing more than a beast.

* * *

II. Wake

Claude wakes up rather groggily. With sad lips and limpid eyes as he was very much not a morning person. Feeling the cold of Faerghus settle around his body once more as he shivers. At least it was slightly warmer now, as Claude adapts and taken to heavier clothing and nightwear. Still cold as hell though, but less so now. 

He draws the blankets closer around his and Dimitri’s prone figure. The king is a restless sleeper and a surprisingly clingy bedmate. Facts that Claude will make sure to include in his journal to leave for future generations to know. That there was a man beyond the king. 

Dimitri looks peaceful like this, eyes closed and lips slightly parted with no frown to marr his face. Claude traces Dimitri’s cheeks with his finger, finding slight amusement in how Dimitri’s brow would scrunch up before relaxing into the touch. 

Cute, Claude would say. If Dimitri was awake to hear. But the king wasn’t, so Claude bites his tongue and saves the comment for a later date. 

With relish, Claude places his lips on the king’s cheeks. Giving the man the best hug he could before sitting upright, preparing for another day of talking with Byleth (his idol, the best tactician ever-) on strategies and how to deal with the Adrestian Empire. Another day, another army to destroy. 

Yet a gentle tug on his sleeves had him falling back into warm cushions once more as-

“Stay,” Dimitri mumbles into his shoulder, drawing Claude into a warm embrace. Muscled arms worming themselves around Claude, strong and solid. There was a slight frown in his brows, a slight downturned of his lips. 

Cute, Claude thinks, his heart almost giving out. So damn cute and wonderful. Why did no one warn him that the king would be so damn good at stopping his heart without even trying?

It would be a great way to die, though, if Claude were to choose. 

“Of course I’ll stay for you, babe,” he says softly. Resigning himself to yet another apology to Byleth for being late. 

But, ah, she was probably too preoccupied with Mercedes to make it on time anyways.

* * *

III. Cool and Hot

Claude admittedly wasn’t one for battle. Having been raised in times of peace for about ninety percent of his life. So it was obvious that his experience with actual warfare was a bit lacking. 

But wasn’t this too much? Claude thinks, staring at Felix with his (cool, awesome, absolutely amazing) Levin sword (named Selene, this Claude knows) raised to the sky and thunder rumbling and spreading through the land as their enemies fell. 

He turns to the other side with Sylvain on his horse (Felicia, Claude thinks, glancing minutely at Felix and wondering how Sylvain hadn’t been butchered for that decision) and his relic glowing amber and bright and cool as his enemies fall as his mount dash through them- like an unstoppable hurricane. 

Then there was Mercedes, standing in the middle of a pyre as she chats with Byleth over the screams of dying men, to which Claude very pointedly ignores the way Byleth and Mercedes both giggles and kiss each other over the fire. As though it was a hearth and not a literal death trap. 

To each their own, Claude supposes.

But the point was, why the hell was everyone so strong? Claude thought he would be at least decent- but- but this-

“Prepare to die!” Sylvain yells as fire sparked from his hands and Felix groans. “Tone it down, mutt. Those are mine to kill.” 

This-

“Sorry, Felix! I just can’t help it!” Sylvain says, with a cheery smile as shadows pass over his face from the damning flames 

They- they really were-

“Are you alright your highness?” Dedue, the fucking awesome giant, chucks a boulder at oncoming enemies as Ashe (archer, his hero- oh-) laughs nervously as he downs another wyvern. 

Goddess, why did you make them-

“I am fine, Dedue, and how many times-” Dimitri swings at his enemy, his relic casting a warm glow on his armor and shines in his eyes. A look that Claude very much approves of and makes him wants to swoon as Dimitri glances at Claude, giving him a one-over. 

Why were they so _cool?_

This wasn’t fair- 

“What are you looking at,” Felix snaps, eyes frosty and sword (Selene, the legendary sword herself-) sparking with lightning and Claude wants to electrocute himself on the blade just to know how it feels. 

Felix gives him an odd look and oh- 

Claude said that out loud. 

“What the fuck, boar,” Felix grits out, his sword turning even brighter, and yep, Claude was probably set to die. “Your soulmate’s an idiot.”

Felix could call Claude an idiot and Claude would still, with absolute certainty, worship him. 

“Hey, me and your soulmate’s pretty similar,” Sylvain says, cleaning the blood of his relic. As Claude looks at him the dark knight gives him a nod of approval which means that Claude was ready to renounce the bow and become a knight from now onwards. 

“That’s not a compliment,” Dimitri says, heavy steps drawing closer. Sliding off his own horse, Lily (great, beautiful name for a great, beautiful horse) with grace. 

“No, silly, that’s an insult!” Annette (the strongest woman he knew, with Hilda coming in a close second with her deadly combination of wind magic and relic, a great warrior to deploy for any battle be it close range or far, magic or physical. Annette was your go-to for any tough battle) says, her relic coming to a dull shine as she swings it over her shoulder. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say insult, but,” Ashe began, eyes nervously flicking from Sylvain to Annette. His feet nervously tapping against the ground as his body practically vibrates, yet his hands were still (the absolute legend of an archer, man of stealth and skill, known for his lockpicking and donating his wealth to charity.) 

“Anything associated with Sylvain is in an of itself an insult,” Felix says, sheathing his sword. 

Sylvain wilts, Felicia whining at the way its rider drapes himself over her. 

“Ah, I’m quite, flattered though,” Claude says, somewhat out of instinct to defend one of his childhood idols. “He’s still pretty cool.” 

“Cool?” Dimitri frowns as he mumbled the word. “I did not know that being cold is something to be complimented for.” 

“Not that Sylvain is cold,” Mercedes says. “You’d know that right, Felix?” 

“Yeah, this idiot’s pretty warm,” Felix answers, his face lit with a pretty blush. Cute, Claude thinks. Prickly but soft, almost like the main lead from a novel. “Disgustingly so.” 

Sylvain cooed. “Of course I’m warm, just being by your side I-”

No wonder there were so many romance stories poorly disguised as history records written about this man and his soulmate 

“No I mean cool like,” Claude pauses, thinking for a moment. “Cool like awesome, you know, great, epic, legendary. _That_ kind of cool.” 

Sylvain chuckles, it was a pleasant thing. “Wow, thanks Claude, didn’t know I was that great.” 

Dimitri frowns, though, brows drawn together as though like magnets and lips pulling downwards like that of a pout. “You called me ‘hot’ the other day.” 

Even when he’s frowning he’s cute, Claude thinks. 

“Am I not… ‘cool?’” Dimitri asks distressingly. 

“No- no! You’re plenty cool. The coolest!” Claude reassures, immediately cuddling up to his soulmate. Wrapping himself around Dimitri’s neck as he once again jump into his arms. 

“Then…”

“Hot is a compliment, you know,” Claude says. 

“But-”

“It just means that I appreciate your appearance,” Claude explains. “A lot.” 

Dimitri seems to mull over Claude’s word. 

“It means that I think that you’re very handsome, Dimitri, oozing with sex appeal and all that jazz,” Claude says, placing a quick kiss on Dimitri’s very defined jaw. 

Dimitri blushes then, cheeks bright and flaming with color and Claude laughs. 

“So hot,” Claude says as Dimitri blushes further.

Felix blanched. 

“I think you’re, uh, hot, too, Felix!” Sylvain yells and Felix’s face turns an interesting shade between red and fucking murderous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the fluff! this is just the first of the extras, so i hope you'll look forward to more! this is not in chronological order so be warned!
> 
> i have a discord now, it's for casual chatting and stuff and i post updates to my fics there so feel free to check it out! code: BeQKa4J
> 
> please leave a comment on what you liked, what you didn't, and just your thought, I love reading all of it!

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoy writing soulmates au haha. its so fun to explore with all the different things that could go wrong. love this pairing too.
> 
> chapter 2 will be published soon, just needs a few more edits thats all. 
> 
> hope ya'll enjoyed that and leave a comment to make the author's day!


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